


A Place in the Sun

by Saifa



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asriel is mentioned - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Other, Post-Pacifist, Soriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saifa/pseuds/Saifa
Summary: It's spring break and Frisk waits for Papyrus to pick them up from Toriel's house. On the walk to the brothers' home, Frisk grows worried about their mom, who has been feeling dreary. They convey this to Sans. He decides to pay a visit to his punny friend to cheer her up.





	A Place in the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spring exchange gift fic for tumblr user tdrawsfandoms hosted by undertale-exchange.

        Frisk scratched at the porch’s blue paint. They hugged their knees to their chest as they traced woodgrains along a plank’s length, only to return to the small knot their paths radiated from. It was a dark twisted splotch of color reminiscent of a stone cast into a once calm pond. They rubbed at the ripples, as if to erase what had been recorded by time. Still, the knot remained under their circling fingertips. With a heavy sigh, Frisk rested their arms on their knees and stared blankly at the sidewalk’s edge where several ants crawled.

        Heavy red boots stepped into Frisk’s view. They snapped their head back wide-eyed and stared up at Papyrus. Their shoulders relaxed as they greeted him with a faint smile and offered a wave.

        “Wowie, you must have been in deep thought to not hear my mighty and great voice!” Papyrus boomed with a wide grin. He extended his hand and helped Frisk up. “Is Miss Toriel getting much needed rest? She sounded…” Papyrus paused, weighing his choice of words. “...very worn out over the phone.”

        Frisk tightened the straps of their purple backpack and looked down. Beaded keychains and zippers clinked together as they shifted. They bit their lip and nodded slowly as they turned to see the ants disappear into the grass. Taking a hold of Papyrus’ hand, they inched closer to him. Frisk’s shoulders sagged.

        Papyrus gave Frisk a concerned look. They squeezed his hand weakly and shrank against him. “The Great Papyrus knows what will help,” he said brightly while placing a hand on Frisk’s shoulder. “A delicious meal will do you some good. I promise you my cooking skills have improved immensely since the last time. In fact, I dare say I have achieved a new level of perfection. You will be absolutely astounded when you try my newest culinary creation.” He began walking slowly with Frisk in tow. “Do not worry, Frisk. Miss Toriel will be feeling better in no time! I am certain of it.”

        Frisk’s lips pressed into a hard line. They barely looked up to watch a silver car pass by.

        The two walked in silence under the noon sun. The neighborhood was quiet save for the distant strumming of guitar strings. The notes grew clearer with each step, bouncing down the street and winding around houses in the crisp air. Frisk turned their attention to it, scanning open windows, gardens, and driveways for the source. Their frown faded as the music grew sunny.

        Papyrus’ brow knitted together. He came to a stop in front of his home. “Frisk,” he began gently, “Miss Toriel means well. She doesn’t want you worrying about her. In fact, I know a certain brother who does the exact same thing. Speaking of my brother…”

        Frisk paused and lifted their head at the guitar chords coming from the front steps. The notes sounded warm and bright as they hummed through the air and the guitar’s frame. Tightening their grip on Papyrus’ hand, Frisk dashed across the yard to Sans with him jogging behind.

        Sans strummed a final chord and let the notes sing. When the guitar’s voice faded, he leaned back and grinned at them. “Hey, bro. Hey, kid. How’s your spring break, Frisk? Toriel didn’t give you any homework, did she?” Sans paused. His smile froze.

        Frisk hunched over, pulling at their sleeve. Tears brimmed their eyes and they wiped at them.

        Sans hurriedly set his guitar aside and stood. “Hey, kid, why the tears?” He reached for Frisk, then glanced desperately at Papyrus. “Come on, tell me what’s bothering you.”

        Frisk’s voice shook. The string of words remained sharp and tangled in their throat like barbed wire. A lump condensed in place of their voice akin to a stone. Grief rippled through them as they raised trembling hands.  _ Mother _ , they signed.  _ Heartache. I could never do it. _

        Sans nodded slowly. The pinpricks of light in his eye sockets glowed dully like distant stars until they became hollow wells. He blinked and his eyes rekindled. “Don’t sweat it, kid,” he shrugged while grinning. “Toriel will bleat this off in no time. We all have our off days.”

        Frisk placed a hand to their chest and hung their head. They nodded, sniffling.

        “But I’ll go pay her a visit,” he winked and patted Frisk’s shoulder before reaching for his guitar and packing it up. “Don’t worry about it, kid.” Before he could walk away, Frisk snagged his sleeve and tugged at it. He remained still, shoulders rigid and avoiding eye contact. His smile cracked wider. Frisk’s fingers loosened and Sans slipped out of their grasp.

        Papyrus rested his hands on Frisk’s shoulders. “Come on, Frisk. Let’s go inside,” he urged, directing them to the front door.

Frisk hesitated before stepping inside. They glanced back to see Sans disappear behind a tree.

        He stood in the afternoon sun with his guitar. Water droplets clung to Sans’ jacket and dripped from his hood. Tilting his head back, he took in a deep breath and listened to the birds singing in the shade. Behind him sat a large stone carving under an oak tree. Its surface was worn and cracked with age. Small plants nested in the cracks and moss adorned the back of it.  “It’s a beautiful day outside,” he said quietly, turning his gaze to Toriel’s house. Lowering his hood, he rounded the corner and stepped onto her porch.

        He stared at Toriel’s door. His eyes flickered as his hand hesitated inches before it. The sound of a passing car snapped his attention back and he stole a glance to watch it turn into the neighbor’s driveway. Sans gave two sharp knocks and waited.

        There was a shuffle behind the door.

        He knocked again.

        “I’m sorry, but I’m not taking any visitors today,” Toriel said in a small, muffled voice. “Please, come back in a few days, would you not?”

        “Hey, that’s not how the joke goes.”

        “Oh! Sans, it’s you,” she said, surprised. “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well-”

        “It’s cool.” He pressed his back against the door and slid down to the floor. “It’ll be just like old times. But I still need to finish my joke.”

        Silence pressed against the door. Toriel exhaled a shuddering breath. “Who’s there?” she asked hesitantly.

        “A herd.” Sans opened the guitar’s case and pulled it out. He quietly tuned the strings.

        “A herd who?” Toriel sniffled.

        “A herd you were home, so I came over,” he said in a low and steady voice.

        Toriel paused. A weak laugh escaped her throat. She stifled a sob and sank to the floor. “Frisk said something to you, did they not?”

        Sans listened closely as his fingers shifted along the guitar’s fingerboard. His smile froze.

        “You need not worry about an old woman like me.”  Her voice sounded brittle like it could split into shards of glass. “I’m just tired.”

        A note twanged and Sans tightened the string. “I know the feeling.”

        “You’re always tired,” she said with a trembling laugh before crumpling into silence. “Knock, knock.”

        “Who’s there?”

        “Wanda,” she said uncertainly.

        “Wanda who?”

        Toriel hesitated. She rested her head against the door. “Wanda...stay with me?”

        Sans relaxed and played a few notes. He slowly hummed a tune as he plucked the strings to compare. “Always.”

        She held her breath and waited for her voice to steady. “It’s funny that we should speak in this manner in a place like this. I can not help but feel…”

        “Like you’re still in the underground?”

        “In a sense.” Toriel sighed. “I left something there. After finally reaching the surface, I still sometimes find myself wanting to go back.” Silence passed between them as she contemplated. She gave a low and hollow laugh. “My students yesterday. Before the day ended, they gathered around my desk with pictures they drew for me – and do you know what they said? ‘Miss Toriel, we don’t want to go home yet. Can we stay a little longer? We love you, Miss Toriel. We love you so much.’ I looked at their bright and smiling faces, and I remembered the ones I lost. I promised to take care of them and I could not.” Toriel let out a shuddering breath. “I smiled, but underneath my words was bitterness. I said, ‘We will see each other again, my children. But for now, you must go home.’” Her voice caught in her throat and slowly crumbled. “When they left the classroom, I felt my loneliness return. I was afraid of it.”

        Sans stared down at the guitar with vacant eyes. He listened to Toriel’s muffled sobs and let them subside. “The kid saw all of that,” he said quietly.

        “They are indeed a perceptive child.” Her voice sank into exhaustion as her thoughts grew pensive. “Sans, do you ever wonder how you arrived somewhere? I found loneliness can make you forget where you are.”

        “I gave up trying to think about it,” he sighed. Sans strummed a chord and shifted his fingers to play a sequence of notes, which grew louder with each passing verse.  “How did you get here?”

        “Asriel,” she said faintly. “My son, Asriel, died a long time ago, and I left him under that mountain. I wish he could have seen the sun. Being here on the surface is like he never existed. Some days it feels like my memories of him are not enough. I am afraid to live in this world like that.”

        Sans flinched. He stopped playing momentarily.  The last note in the phrase lingered before dissolving in the wind.  A rigid smile stretched across his face as he continued the song louder than before. “Don’t forget.”

        Toriel fell silent. She caught a whisper of the melody and listened intently. The song pressed against her door and swept underneath it, as if desperately trying to reach her. It wove into her memory and fought against her disbelief. “Where did you learn that song?” she gasped.

        “I heard it on my way over.” He shifted his gaze to the birds singing in the oak tree. The leaves rustled in the wind and camouflaged the clusters of beating wings.  “There’s something you might want to see, Tori.”

        Several phrases of the song passed before the door unlocked. It slowly swung open and Toriel stood with one foot planted on the threshold. For a moment, she almost retreated back. She stared down at Sans, who tilted his head back to gently grin at her. Her voice faltered and she was locked into silence. Toriel knelt down and embraced him tightly while she rested her head on his shoulder.

        His fingers came to a rest and the final notes slowly evanesced. Sans felt Toriel’s body tremble against his. His smile softened. “You stepped outside this time.” Setting the guitar aside, he lightly touched her cheek. “Come on. There’s something waiting for you.”

        Toriel let Sans slip out of her grasp. He took her hand and led her to the oak tree. Squinting in the sunlight, she made out the faded red umbrella nestled in the crook of the statue’s arm. At its feet, encircled by an arch of stones, sat a vase filled with tulips. The white petals were streaked with a pattern of red flames. Toriel’s hands flew to her mouth and she caught her gasp. Falling to her knees, she blinked at the sight to test its permanence.

        “It didn’t seem right to leave it there.” Sans settled down beside her and watched her from the edge of his vision. “And I figured you’ve had enough golden flowers for a lifetime.”

        Reaching forward, Toriel hovered a trembling hand over a stone. Her skin prickled when she grazed the smooth surface.  A calm mist filled her eyes and her smile bloomed. “Thank you, Sans,” she said in a quivering voice. Her gaze shifted to the tulips and how they swayed in the filtered light. Without looking, Toriel reached for Sans’ hand and locked her fingers with his.

        Sans closed his eyes and listened to the birds sing. He heard Toriel faintly hum a tune. The once melancholy song now sounded bright as her voice carried it and melded with the world. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

        Toriel leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. She smiled to herself. “I know that now.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering what song Sans was playing, it's "Memory".


End file.
